…and in the midst of it all
stood a man
quaking at the knees
fires burning on the horizon
fanned by the wind
dance in his eyes
there’s a sword in his hand
a mage’s staff in the other
a dragon lay dead at his feet
the acrid smell of smoke
and cinders dance in the air
there is stills screaming
the damage the dragon had done
has yet to be fully realized
the scar on his chest
broken and bruised bodies scattered
his lover, still missing
dawn is hours away, still
as he licks his lips
with a papery tongue, thirsty
his heart still hammering away
sweat, piss, fear, the stink of decay
He doesn’t know what to do
he jealously regards to the dragon
he’s so tired, so very tired
the castle is half destroyed behind him
there’s nothing but uncertainty
from his moment, onward
What was that?
His nerves jump, his heart plummets
a cry of dismay emerges from his parted lips
it takes a moment to register
the smallest change in the air
something sweet, perfumed, merciful
the first drop, the second,
the thirty third before his shoulders relax
and as the sky opens up
his knees give and he sinks
to weep, the child of many moons passed
can finally express itself
his tears mingled with the rain,
washing his soul clean
“I’m okay. I’m okay,”
he says over and over
shuddering wildly, trembling
convincing the world, the dragon,
himself
as he hangs suspended
in between life and death
warrior and weak
as heaven breaks over his
supplicant tremulous form